


Breathless Bloodshed

by HopefulHeir



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefulHeir/pseuds/HopefulHeir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He saved you.  He didn't even think about it; he just... did it.  And now you'll never be able to tell him that you love him -- or hear him say whether or not he loves you, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless Bloodshed

You can’t believe it.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Nobody else was supposed to get hurt. You were all going to follow the plan Rose and Terezi had worked together on, using their Seer powers to make it perfect. You were going to defeat Jack, then move on to take out Lord English, and win the game, and then find some way to lead normal lives from there.

Yet there he is, lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. The same blood that stained your clothes as you knelt down beside him to try and keep him alive.

“Dammit John,” you hiss through gritted teeth, pressing hard against the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding, “keep your fucking eyes open. You’re not going to die here, nookstain, so stop acting so dramatic.”

You try to sound sure of yourself, but if you were being honest, you’d have to admit that it was beginning to seem that his chances were slim. No matter what you do, the blood just won’t stop flowing. And if the things you’d learned about humans are true, he doesn’t have nearly as much to spare as a troll would. And as his face grows paler and paler, you feel that the fact has just been proven true.

After a bout of coughing, he smiles up at you. “Wh-why are you…lying?” he murmurs. “And it’s…such an optimistic one, too. It…it’s not like you, Karkat.”

Your frown deepens; you adjust your hands and try again, glaring at him as you do so. “Because, dumbass, you can only die permanently if it’s heroic or just.”

He tries to laugh, but only gets out a couple of “ha”s before coughing again. He turns his head to the side, spitting out the blood that came up with it, before speaking again. “You…You don’t call what I did h-heroic?”

Your mind flashes to the memory — Jack speeding toward you, sword prepared, then suddenly you were on the ground, and John was in your place, the blade was through him for the third or fourth fucking time, and he dropped to the ground —

You simply scoff. “That wasn’t heroic. That was fucking stupidity at its finest. You know that, I know that, Paradox Space fucking knows that. Last time I checked, stupidity didn’t kill gods. So you’ll be fine.”

Your voice betrays you at the word “fine” by cracking. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the emotions building up inside. The sounds of the fight can be heard easily nearby — Strider just yelled something to Terezi, and you glance up to see her jump away from Jack’s sword just in time. You breathe a sigh of relief at that sight. You know you should be fighting with them, but you have to help John.  After all, you learned quite a bit about first aid back on Alternia due to having to hide your blood — if he has any chance of survival, you’re the most likely candidate to grab it.

But that chance is quickly slipping away.

With another light chuckle, leading to yet another fit of coughing, he reaches up and cups your face with his hand, fingers lightly brushing against your cheek. “I’m glad that I got to meet you…” he whispers weakly.

“Don’t give me that!” you growl in response.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but before the words can come, his eyes slide closed. His breath leaves him, and his hand falls from your face. You catch it before it can land, yanking his arm more violently then you should.

“NO!! God fucking damn it, John! If you don’t open your stupid goddamn eyes right this second, I…I’ll..!”

But he doesn’t move, aside from limply following the force of your pull. He doesn’t answer you; he doesn’t breathe.

He’s gone.

You pull his corpse into a tight hug. In a movement of desperation, you place a kiss on his lips in an attempt to revive him, before remembering that his real body had died a long time ago, and that this  _is_  his dreamself. Realizing this, your head drops, and your shoulders shake from the force of a sob that never actually escaped your throat.

You slowly raise your head again, glaring through your bangs at the one who killed the boy you never got to admit your love to. Your breaths are deep and shaky, and your hands tremble with rage as they grip your sickle. Moving it to your right hand, you pull another from your sylladex to hold in the other. You’ve never dual-wielded before, but this is a fact you hardly think about as you stand, steady yourself, and charge back into the fight.


End file.
